


Falling Inside the Black

by Autumn_Elizabeth



Category: Wallander (UK TV)
Genre: M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumn_Elizabeth/pseuds/Autumn_Elizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I will take what you care about most away, Mister Wallander." A case hits close to home when Ystad's police force is targeted directly by a maniacal serial killer. Driven by revenge, and a hatred for anyone that can still hold anything dear, the man has set his sights on Wallander, and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants.  Kurt/Magnus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on AO3, as well as for the Kurt/Magnus pairing, and Wallander fandom in general. As always, any feedback is appreciated, and I hope you enjoy your read. Warning: I have no idea where this is going.

"Mister Kurt Wallander. What a pleasure." 

The voice on the other end of the phone line was sickly sweet. It sent shivers down the detectives spine as he tried to process what he was hearing. Without even waiting for a response, the man continued.

"I will take what you care about most away, Mister Wallander."

"What are you talking about?" Some time before the other man stopped talking, Kurt had gotten his voice to function, at least slightly.

"I will destroy you, Kurt."

His name was emphasized, making Wallander grit his teeth with grim premonition. Before he could make any reply, a click sounded in his ear and a knock echoed at his door. Ann-Britt stood there with a worried look on her face. "We just got a call."

* * *

Ten minutes later, the team was assembled outside an old warehouse. The door opened a crack as they stood around the vehicles discussing how they should proceed inside the building. No one noticed, in the falling dusk, the darkly clad man who slipped out of the house to stand on the doorstep, and then creep around to the back of the house. 

After another five minutes of discussion that went nowhere, Kurt finally gave up. "Why don't we just go in and check it out? I mean, has anyone else seen anyone around this place besides us?"

"Just because we can't see him doesn't mean he isn't here," Martinsson piped up, "I mean, this is the only lead we have on this guy, we don't want to mess it up."

Sadly, Kurt realized Magnus was right. This maniac had to be stopped, and this could be their best chance. However, the only thing he could think about when he saw the younger officer walking with slight apprehension towards the warehouse, was the sickly sweet voice on the phone not even half an hour ago. 

_"I will take what you care about most away, Mister Wallander. I will destroy you."_

He had to be caught before his daughter, or anyone on his team was seriously hurt, or worse. And Martinsson... The younger man was a whole different story. One that he really could not delve into at that.

* * *

The door opened to reveal nothing but darkness. Mangled mounds rose up from the floor - covered cars, heaping shelves of miscellaneous junk filled the inky space. All of the windows had been covered by blackout fabric, making it difficult to see around all of the obstacles. Everyone scrambled around, trying to find a light source of some kind. When Ann-Brit finally pulled out a small flashlight and swept the place with light, the team noticed one thing: they were one man short.

"Where's Martinsson?" hissed Kurt, his eyes flitting from corner to corner in an attempt to find their teammate. 

"You even have to ask, Mister Wallander?"

All of the police officers froze at the sound of the new voice. A shudder ran through Wallanders body at the familiar sound. 

"Where are you, you bastard?"

"Kurt? What's going on?" Martinsson's voice was weak, as if there was not enough air in the room to breathe.

The female officer's voice rang out worriedly, "Magnus?!" 

She swept her flashlight around the space, eventually landing on a pair of figures to Wallander's right. The former could feel his breath hitch as he saw Magnus being dragged by the neck so the pair stood in front of him. His eyes were half closed, the black shirt and grey coat he wore were twisted around his awkwardly contorted form. But the scariest part of the whole picture was by far, the 9mm pistol pressed to his subordinate's temple, the safety off, and the maniac's finger dangerously close to the trigger. A sick and twisted lips escaped his lips as he pressed the gun a little harder into the side of Martinsson's head.

"Now, Kurt," once again, his name was sickeningly emphasized, "look at me. I want to see your eyes when I put a bullet through his skull. I want to see you break as I destroy you."

"You wouldn't," Wallander's voice caught in his throat.

Another sadistic laugh, "I told you, I was going to take everyone and everything you care about and make it disappear, Kurt."

Desperate, the detective searched his mind for a way to stall him as the killer's finger came to rest on the trigger, and began to squeeze. 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

He was too young for this, wasn't he? Too young to have his life flash before his eyes, with a gun held tight to his head? It just couldn't... But wait. Of course, it could. He was a police officer. He had signed up for this the day he stepped into the academy. Magnus closed his eyes, seeing images of his past, his family, and suddenly, Kurt Wallander. His eyes flew open, and he went rigid. This maniac was doing this to get to Kurt. But why him? Wouldn't Linda be a better choice? Didn't his boss not like him that much? They weren't on the best terms, that was plain to see, and he cared, of course. Despite appearances Kurt Wallander cared and watched out for everyone on the team to some degree, but...

Martinsson's thoughts were broken off by Anne-Britt's trembling voice, "Sir, put the gun down. Put your hands up and we can talk."

"What is there to talk about? Mister Martinsson is going to die, and  _he,_ " the crazed man pointed to Wallander with his free hand, letting Magnus slip slightly, as he tried to hold him with his gun hand, "is going to watch. I  ** _will break him._** " 

Seizing the moment of his captor's distraction, Magnus slipped to the ground, silently thanking god for his slight build, and went to reach for his weapon, before remembering that it was the same one that the gunman was holding. Pointing, actually. Straight at his head.

"Magnus!"

The cry came at the same time as the gunshots. For a moment, the world went black as the officer closed his eyes. When he reopened them, all he could see was red. Blood. Something in his mind registered that this wasn't right, there had been a gun pointed at his head, and the madman had pulled the trigger. He should be dead, but he wasn't. Only then, he realized that the blood was not his, and something, or someone, had managed to pull him out of the way and shield him. And then the world came back to full speed, and everything around him seemed to unfreeze. It was pure chaos.

Voices were screaming for ambulances, asking if he was alright, people were holstering their sidearms and rushing to contain the scene. The weight that had protected him was gently pulled off, and Magnus forced himself into a sitting position as his already pale face went white with shock. Kurt Wallander lay motionless except for his laboured breathing, blood blossoming from a hole in his chest.

"Oh my god... Kurt," was all the young police officer could manage as he took in the ghastly sight before him.

"Kurt, hang on. An ambulance is on it's way, just hold on," Anne-Britt was saying, trying desperately to keep panic from infiltrating her urgent tones.

Slowly, painstakingly, Wallander's lips moved and a breath escaped them. This passed unnoticed to Anne-Britt, who had finally shifted her attention to her younger collegue, but Magnus was not one to miss even such a subtle movement. He could have sworn he'd heard something, but it could have just been his imagination. His head was starting to spin, and his eyes unfocus until the woman before him grabbed him lightly by the shoulders. "Magnus, are you alright?"

The blond was about to reply that he was fine, she should be paying attention to Wallander, but a stabbing pain in his leg stopped him. Looking down, he noticed a large pool of blood forming beneath his left calf, "Did he shoot me?" his voice was both surprised and almost indignant.

Anne-Britt swept her gaze backwards as she stood up, "It seems so. Come on, I think the medics are here. We should you cleaned up and to the hospital. You're losing a lot of blood."

"I'll be fine, you should be watching Kurt," Magnus protested, casting a long glance towards his superior.

The brunette still looked worried, but agreed and walked over to where the paramedics were filing in the door. She spoke rapidly to the medics as three rushed to Wallander's side, promptly lifting him onto a stretcher. Another one came to kneel beside Magnus, assessing his wounds in alternate palpations of his leg and rapid bursts of questions. The police officer answered all of them in a slightly shaky voice. It was taking all of his concentration to keep the words from slurring and mixing up between his brain and his mouth - the blood loss was getting to him it would seem. The paramedic could sense this as well it seemed, and he promptly called two others over. The newcomers carried a stretcher between them and hurried to help the ailing man.

* * *

As Magnus was tended to, no one noticed the crazed, cold eyes gleaming in the shadows. Fingers twitched into a simple melody tapped out on a dark clad leg. Yes, a loss had been suffered today. However, it had not been without its merit. His two star actors were out of the show for now, but it was time to change the set. Just a short scene before they proceeded onto the second act. The first had concluded as perfectly as one could have hoped, and the show must go on. His actors were waiting, the setlist would be followed. It was almost time to cue the curtain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, I wrote something... Again... Finally. Sorry it's been taking so long (I say that every time don't I?) Ah well, I think this is the longest chapter yet, so please enjoy. As always, I love to know what you think!

The ride to the hospital was spent in a haze of pain and worry for Magnus. Lisa had come down to the scene, and sat next to him in the ambulance. “Lisa?” he mumbled, the concoction of drugs the EMT’s had given him making his tongue thick.

“It’s okay Magnus, we’re almost there,” she spoke soothingly.

Magnus could feel consciousness slipping from his grasp as he tried to form a coherent thought. _Damn… Drugs… Can’t think…_ He gave up on forming a full sentence, and tried to turn to look at his companion, “Kurt? Is…?” his sentence trailed away with the rest of his strength.

Lisa just smiled at him sadly, “We’ll know more at the hospital. Just get some rest, Magnus.”

With that, she fell silent, allowing the wailing sirens and flashing lights to overwhelm Magnus’ senses. Vaguely he registered the paramedics talking – both between themselves and over the radio. He tried to open his mouth, tried to speak, but all he got was darkness rushing over him as he blacked out.

* * *

Clark sat alone, as he always did in the corner of a coffee shop. It was rather central to Ystad, lots of foot traffic going around outside, but most just breezed by the little hole in the wall café. The middle-aged man spent a fair amount of time there with his nose buried in a book. A little black book to be precise – he knew how cliché it was, but the first journal had been a gift from his daughter. Being a creature of habit, he never changed his style, even as he now filled the fourth such book with small handwritten notes, words, ramblings, poetry even.

This morning was particularly tranquil, only the few regulars sat scattered throughout the small shop. Needless to say, Clark was surprised when a younger man approached and sat across from him wordlessly.

“It’s time to change the set,” the younger murmured after a pause.

Clark looked at the strange hooded figure, something flashing in his eyes. “I’m afraid you have me mistaken for someone else, sir.”

Shaking his head, the other man stood and walked out without another word. _That was… odd,_ Clark mused, shaking off the chill that ran down his spine. He was sure he knew the young man, but his face surfaced in the pools of memory from a time long past – and better left forgotten.

* * *

 

To say Kurt was disoriented when he woke up would be a gross understatement.  For a moment, he believed he’d just fallen asleep at his desk trying to catch a lead on their latest case. It was a tough one, and none of his team had gotten much sleep over the past couple days. Naturally it was a murder case that had them all losing sleep, some psychopath out on a revenge mission – or at least that’s what they’d concluded. Targeting families, forcing fathers to confess to crimes that had never been committed, something about finally understanding the true meaning of loss and grief.

Those two words sparked Kurt’s memory back to the present. He’d been shot, protecting Magnus. His memory was hazy after he felt the searing pain in his back, but he’s sure that his young colleague had made it out alive. The detective couldn’t remember, if only he could just think. What were they pumping into him anyways? Glancing over, he saw the tangled web of tubes and bags he was hooked up to. Most of them went into his left hand, his right was hooked up to a pulse monitor. He could just –

“Don’t even think about it, Kurt.”

Anne-Brit stood in the doorway of his room, a warning look in her eyes. With a sigh, Wallander lay back against the pillows and looked at her, almost scared to ask the question that was on his lips.

“Martinsson?”

The woman smiled and nodded, “He’ll be fine. Took one to the leg, but nothing too major. And before you ask, the perp got away. Everyone else is back working. Whether they’re working the case, or plotting how to best torture and murder the guy when we catch him, I don’t know.”

Kurt smiled slightly at the remark before there was a soft knock at the door and Linda peeked her head in. Seeing that her father was awake, tears began to shine in her eyes. Anne-Brit smiled at her and Kurt before moving to leave.

“Anne-Brit… Could you…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he stops by before going back to the station,” she replied, not even waiting for her boss to finish.

Nodding his thanks, the detective turned his attention back to his daughter, “Hey sweetheart.”

“Dad!” she ran over like she was going to hug him, before thinking better of it and just taking his hand instead, “I’m so glad you’re finally awake.”

“How long was I out?” he asked, caressing the back of her fingers with his thumb.

“A few days, work let me have the time off so I tried to be here as much as possible,” she replied.

“I guess I was pretty crap company, wasn’t I?”

“Only as much as you usually are,” Linda teased, both of them chuckling softly before she continued, “I heard about what you did for your partner. That was really…”

“Stupid? Irrational? Self-sacrificing?”

Linda smiled, “Yeah, maybe a bit, but also… good. And brave. You must care a lot about him.”

Slightly taken aback Kurt stammered slightly, “Y-yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“I mean, I can’t see you taking one bullet, let alone three for Mum – even when you guys were married and not fighting all the time,” stopping herself, she just smiled and patted her father’s hand, “Anyway, the doctors say you’ll be out of here in no time. If you need help at home…”

Kurt smiled at his daughter, “I’ll be sure to let you know, don’t worry about me,” as she stood to leave, he placed a quick kiss on her knuckles and murmured, “Love you, Linda.”

“Love you too, Dad. Get some rest, yeah?”

“Of course.”

As she turned out of the room, she almost ran right into a young man on crutches whom she vaguely recognized as Magnus Martinsson – the very man her father had been shot protecting. She gave him a quick smile before hurrying out of the hospital, a grin on her lips.

 


End file.
